Malcolm took his first steps yesterday. At least I think they were his first. It happened at daycare, and he gave us a repeat performance at home last night. Only 2 or 3 wobbly steps then he falls forward, realizing what he’s done. But sure enough, he’s taking some unassisted steps. He did it a couple of times at home until he fell like a tree in the forrest and face planted into the carpet. Me, being the over-protective mommy, swooped in and picked him up, all the while Mike was fussing me about mommy-ing him. And that was the end of walking for the night. We tried again before work this morning, and got a couple more shaky steps. Britney likes to cut right in front and knock him down, while Murf couldn’t be less interested. She’s probably figured out that him walking spells trouble for her.
It’s weird. I thought I’d be upset if I didn’t witness his first steps. I want to be the first to see everything. It was something I felt very strongly about when he was first born. But I’m not that upset. As he grows, I’m seeing that it’s all very fluid. It’s hard to say he did something for the first time, because everything seems to be constantly in transition. He’s been walking while holding our hand for awhile now, so naturally, he’ll be walking on his own soon. Then his steps will become steadier and quicker, and soon he’ll be running. That’s just how it goes. I’m just so surprised at my attitude. It’s not that I don’t care. I’m very proud of him and I’m so excited for him, but I’m not overly-emotional about any of it – the fact that he took steps, or the fact that I didn’t get to see it first. It’s just all good. If I spend so much of my life focused on trying to control what I cannot, then the good stuff will pass me by.
So that’s me – living in the moment. And what beautiful moments they are.
Murf and Brit 